


Unfairytale

by unoriginal_liz



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-01
Updated: 2009-02-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unoriginal_liz/pseuds/unoriginal_liz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You think of your new life in Ontario as a fairytale.  You don't <i>say</i> that, of course, because chances are that if you say 'fairytale', people will automatically think Disney - when what you've got in mind is something much more...Grimm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfairytale

**Author's Note:**

> Part of drabble challenge, written for lj user cold_campbells

You think of your new life in Ontario as a fairytale. You don't _say_ that, of course, because chances are that if you say 'fairytale', people will automatically think Disney - when what you've got in mind is something much more...Grimm.

Because fairytales _aren't_ about 'happily ever after'. They end that way, sure, but mostly they're about things being _messy_ , and complicated, and the weird workings of fate. Fairytales are about tests and impossible tasks, about making do with what you've got, which generally isn't much. Thus far, you've amassed one (1) new father-figure, two (2) new brothers, and one (1) new sister/cat.

It's up to you to convert this particular pile of straw into gold.

This would be so much easier to accomplish without Him. The wicked stepbrother who refuses to share the kingdom, or even keep his music at an acceptable volume. One bad apple, poisoning the experience for everyone...but especially you.

He's in his room now, holed up like Bluebeard - of course, there are no _literally_ mutilated female bodies in there, but after all, this is an _updated_ fairytale, and you decide that thong posters definitely count as a symbolic mutilation of the female form.

There's nothing good behind that door, but you can't stop yourself from knocking anyway. And once again, you draw your metaphorical sword, ready for a not-so-metaphorical battle.


End file.
